Traditionalism
by The Light-Hearted Fool
Summary: Hey, Sheik? Why do you keep your face covered all the time?"


**Title:** Traditionalism  
**Author:** The Jester  
**Rating:**PG  
**Warning:** Involves a mildly Alternate Universe, not an author too stupid to know what _everyone_ in the fandom knows.  
**Disclaimer**: The rights to Legend of Zelda belong to Nintendo, of which the author and editor of this piece of fan fiction are not a part. This piece has not been written for profit, neither is it in circulation for profit.

**Notes:** This takes place in the same universe as my other piece of fiction, _Watchers and Gravediggers_. This being so, I still don't own any ghost stories.

**Additional Notes:** I am aware that Sheik and Zelda are the same person in canon. Even if I _hadn't_ beaten the game, I'd _still_ know, because it's ten years old. Any reviews about Sheik being Zelda will be banished to Siberia.

**Dedication:** To my lovely Rio, for her contribution in the ideas contained within.

* * *

Devin grew up with Sheik; they played together at least every other day. He liked to think he knew Sheik pretty well, because of this. Sheik liked being in the rain and hated (or, at least complained audibly about) having wet clothes. He liked asking riddles, and liked it more when people couldn't answer them – and then refused to share his answers.

Sheik didn't talk a lot. When he did talk, Devin noticed, it was soft spoken, and accompanied with hand gestures. The more exuberant he was with his words, the more he gestured, instead of speaking more excitedly. It was funny, sometimes, but Devin tried not to show it, because Sheik was never happy to be the source of unintentional amusement.

Of course, Devin often thought that the scarves – usually in deep purples and reds – Sheik always wore muffled the sound of Sheik's voice. He wore the scarves all year round, even when it was hot or humid (or both, obviously). This was one thing Devin did not know; he did not know why Sheik always wore the scarves.

He thought, at first, it was to hide some gruesome scars, but, when he expressed that thought to his mother, she just asked him where he could have got them, safe in the village. The curiosity faded, for the most part, with time spent together.

Well, they faded until one of Sheik's birthdays, in which his outfits changed. The scarves were replaced with strange facemasks that were actually sewn into the shirts. They were strange, all-white vestments with red sashes, and they prevented Sheik from climbing over old stones, for fear of dirtying them. Not that Sheik often climbed over dirty stones or roll in the grass, but still – Devin liked to do things besides read books (or, as was more the case, have books read to him).

Instead of looking at dusty headstones at the back of the graveyard, one summer afternoon, they both sat at the well, looking into it. Devin swirled his fingers around in the water, idly. It was certainly not as fun, hanging around Sheik, as it had been a week ago.

Devin decided to ignore how rude the question felt, and asked, "Hey, Sheik?"

"Yes, Devin?"

"Why do you keep your face covered all the time?"

Sheik shrugged, "Because I'm a Sheikah."

"But the Impa Lady doesn't cover _her_ face."

"She's a _Lady_ though."

Devin thought about that a moment, then frowned, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Only men cover their faces."

"Oh… why?"

"To keep modesty."

"Why?"

"Men are prone to bragging and boasting and showing off. Keeping modesty improves character and focuses the mind."

"But isn't it uncomfortable?"

"Not really. I'm used to it."

"Do you ever take those scarves off?"

"I don't wear them when I'm at home. Unless Nana has company over, or the Lady Impa comes by to see me."

"So… no one's allowed to see your face?"

Sheik shook his head, "Only family."

"Oh." Devin frowned and thought about all of that, "Why?"

"_Because_ Sheikah men keep their modesty."

"So how come your family can still see your face?"

Sheik boggled, "Why would I need to keep covered in front of my _Nana_?"

"I dunno," Devin shrugged, "why would you need to keep covered in front of anyone?"

Sheik was getting agitated, "_Because!_"

"That's not an answer!"

"I gave you an answer, already!"

"Well, it doesn't make any sense!"

Devin blinked and then he saw the world spin. He landed on the ground, hard on his arm. He yelped and flipped onto his back. Above him, Sheik stood. The sunlight behind him made Sheik look almost like a shadow with dark, narrowed, red eyes.

"Yes it does," Sheik hissed.

Devin struggled back to his feet and Sheik shoved him again. He managed to stay on his feet, that time. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded, pushing Sheik back.

Sheik hardly budged backward, so Devin pushed him again. Instead of getting any more answers from Sheik, they ended up in a scuffle. Sheik was bigger than he was, and had better balance, but Devin was still able to land a hit on Sheik. Sheik recoiled, with a hand over his eye, before he lunged, again.

Devin tried to run, after that, but a large hand hoisted him upwards. He wriggled, but did nothing but dangle uselessly in the air. Mr. Zimmermann, the loud master carpenter, glared down at them, seeming like an irate giant. Icy dread sunk into Devin's insides; he didn't want his mother to find out he'd been fighting. He didn't want his mother to find out he'd been asking those questions.

"Just what do you two think you're doing?"

Devin opened his mouth, prepared to protest anything Sheik said, but Sheik didn't say anything. He just glared furiously at Devin, as if Mr. Zimmermann wasn't even there.

"Well?"

Devin tried to shrug, but couldn't pull it off, "I dunno."

The giant-of-a-man harrumphed, "Of course."

He set both of them back on the ground and Devin fought the urge to run. He felt his legs shake.

"I'm talking to your parents about this," he informed them. "Maybe you'll know what you were doing when _they_ ask."

Devin didn't hear what Sheik's Nana was told; he was the first one taken home by Mr. Zimmermann. Both of his parents were able to hear how Devin punched Sheik, and how they were both uncooperative. They weren't thrilled with that news, and Devin had to explain what had happened in full.

As he told the story, he felt considerably stupid. He was fighting with his friend over a _scarf_. If Sheik wanted to wear a stupid scarf all the time, then fine. Of course, voicing that thought at the end of his explanation didn't seem to mollify his parents the way he thought it should. He realized it was a stupid fight. What else could they have wanted from him?

Devin was surprised, though, that he wouldn't be getting a spanking for his actions. He was told just to wait in his room, for his father to come talk to him. He wasn't sure why, but it was better than a spanking.

When his father came in, he did not immediately speak. He simply stood there, looking contemplative.

Until, "The Sheikah have a different culture than we do. They do things differently. Men in their culture wear facemasks because it's proper. It's like wearing trousers. You'd get in trouble if you ran about in your breeches. It's the same for the Sheikah and their facemasks."

Devin thought about this, but didn't think that wearing pants and wearing a facemask were anything like each other. He frowned at the thought.

Without even hearing what Devin might have to say, his father sighed. "Devin, why don't you wear dresses?"

"Dresses are for girls," Devin answered, finding the question absurd.

"Why?"

Again, Devin thought the question was stupid, "Because…" until he realized he didn't know how to answer it.

"Because…?" prompted his father, expectantly.

Not having any other answer, Devin replied, "Because _girls_ wear them."

"What stops you from wearing one?"

"I'd look _stupid_. I'm not a girl!"

"Why do only girls wear dresses?"

"Because they just _do_," whined Devin. He didn't want to wear a dress, and he didn't know why he was being asked those questions.

"That's how if is for your friend," his father said, sounding satisfied. "Boys wear facemasks, girls don't."

Devin still thought that the facemasks were strange, but he nodded at his father's words, anyway. Was going around without a facemask anything like wearing a dress, for Sheik? It was weird to consider as truth. Sheik never acted as if he thought that.

Did he think Devin acted like a girl?

Devin frowned at the notion. Sheik didn't act as if he thought Devin was some sort of weirdo dressed like a girl. Remembering his father's statement that it was also like wearing trousers, he wondered if Sheik thought he was being some sort of ill-behaved hooligan, running around half-dressed. Did Sheik think any of those things about how Devin dressed?

Devin thought he dressed normally. He'd never considered the fact that other people might disagree. He felt a little guilty for thinking of Sheik's facemask as weird, in hindsight. That wasn't really nice.

* * *

Devin had hoped, all morning, that Sheik would come outside as he always did. He'd never had to knock on Sheik's door in the past, and, now that he had to, it was an intimidating task. It was just _giving_ Sheik the opportunity to ignore him, after all.

He wanted to apologize, though, and he ended up knocking on the door. Granted, it took him a few hours of wandering aimlessly through the village, but he did it. Sheik's Nana answered, and was more than happy to invite him in, only telling him to wait for her to tell Sheik. He almost followed, until he remembered Sheik didn't wear his facemask indoors.

Instead, Devin fidgeted and poked at some of the sundry things Sheik's Nana kept, like music boxes and old flowers pressed into picture frames.

When he was allowed, he wandered down the hall, slowly, to where he'd been told Sheik's room was. The closer he got, the more palpable the silence felt. He almost wanted to turn around and sneak away, but his legs were more in control than his fear was. His step didn't falter in the slightest until he was in Sheik's doorway.

It was not like Devin's room, which had a short bookcase for spook-stories and fables that his mom and dad brought him. The books Sheik had were few, and in a stack on a blue-and-red rug, with Sheik sitting next to it. He was reading intently, and didn't bother looking up at Devin. Devin almost thought Sheik just didn't notice him, but that seemed absurd. Sheik seemed to notice everything else; how would he not notice anyone stepping into his room?

Knowing it was much too late to ever turn back (it was too late after _knocking_), Devin walked closer, in timid steps. He kept waiting for Sheik to say something – to tell him to leave, to demand to know why he was there, just _something_ – but he was silent.

So, not knowing how to really start, Devin kept it simple, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sheik asked in even tones, turning a page idly.

He wasn't sure what to name his offense, "For saying your face-scarf was stupid, for hitting you, I don't know. All of it?"

Sheik didn't reply to that. He just continued reading, and Devin felt a little frustrated.

"I mean, I wouldn't want to wear a dress," he blurted, thinking of everything his father said.

Sheik looked up at him, his brow furrowed with confusion, "_What?_"

"I…don't know," Devin said, still unsure, "people just wear different things?"

He stood there, shifting from one foot to the other, as the room faded back into silence. Sheik wasn't normally talkative, but his silence made Devin far more anxious than usual. "I'm sorry," he said again, "I didn't know. I don't know, I…" he sighed, frustrated.

Sheik gestured for Devin to sit next to him, "Come here. Let me show you this – it's a book on Sheikah rites of passage."

So Devin sat, and looked at old, colorless illustrations while Sheik read. When Sheik read, Devin listened and didn't talk. The more Sheik read, the happier he sounded. And Devin was quite happy to listen.


End file.
